


What Remains of the Lost

by JessicaPendragon



Series: Canon Keela Lavellan [19]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halamshiral, In the Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halamshiral is more than Lavellan ever thought and seems to cast a spell over everything it touches, even Solas. As they share intimate moments and walk through elvhen memories something begins to change for both of them. It is a world she's never seen and a world he's never forgotten and neither will leave the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The carriage passes through the lazy lanes of Halamshiraland Keela strains her neck out the window to catch a glimpse at everything shecan. Halamshiral,  _the end of the journey_ , a place she never thought to see being held so in the grip of her clan. How could she ever curse this thing on her hand when it has opened the world to her?

Her kind is  _everywhere_.

She never thought so many remained in one place, but the lower sections swarm with elves. They walk, free of chains, masks or vallaslin, pass storefronts vibrant with color and wares, or gather in front of houses made from modest stone. These quarters are hardly as lavish as the human domains of Orlais she’s seen, but the way the elves exist here is beyond the dreams and destitution of any alienage. There is something like life here, not just survival.

Keela wants to jump from the carriage and lose herself in the crowd. Ask questions, touch everything, drown in the familiar lilt of her language and bask in something new, but something of her world. She is always at war with her Dalish nature, but perhaps here she could find a place to belong.

Soon they’re beyond the elven parts of the city and Keela loses interest. Extravagant homes blaze with thousands of candles and finely dressed humans walk the streets, but she has no interest to see behind their walls, their masks.

“Halamshiral is quite a sight, isn’t it, Inquisitor?” Josephine asks at her side. 

“Yes it is,” Keela answers, her voice a little breathless. She has forgotten about the others in the carriage and suddenly can’t wait to see  _his_  expression. Her eyes turn to Solas, but it doesn’t seem like he has been peeking out the window for his eyes are already upon her. The look he casts upon her steals the breath from her with its intensity. His blue eyes are so dark, his mouth set in a line. It’s such a hungry look, for what she’s not quite sure, but she expects to see fangs if he opens his jaws.

“Just wait until we get to the Winter Palace,” Leliana says from her place across the carriage and Keela is glad that the two rather observant women have missed this exchange. She tears her gaze away from Solas to make sure they do not arouse suspicion and, if she admits it, to escape his fixated attention. The memory of it curls around in her chest and sinks lower, deeper.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Inquisitor, I’d like to go over…” Keela dares to sneak a glance back at Solas as Josephine rattles on and finds him gazing out the window, but his eyes meet hers in the glass. They’re taunting, teasing, as is the grin on his lips. She gives him a wicked smile of her own before turning her attention towards the Antivan.

The Winter Palace is indeed grand, so grand she must tilt her head back as they enter through the looming gates. Gaspard walks her through the garden planted with nobles who stare at her behind gilded masks, some brave ones whispering about the marks on her face. Keela holds her head high, puts mystery into the slant of her mouth, the line of eyebrows. This is just another battlefield and she a warrior in velvet cloth. She does not know how to win this game just yet, but she is a fast learner.

The inside of the palace is even more spectacular and the empress beyond radiant in her sapphire gown. Keela listens to her companions be announced and has to restrain herself from snorting when they dare call Solas a servant. She desperately wants to turn around and see the look on her lover’s face at the thought. He is either greatly amused or wearing a frown like he has tasted bitter tea.

After the announcements she finds him leaning against a statue far enough from the main hall to watch, but disengaged from it all. His face is full of humor and a half finish wine glass dangles in gloved hands. Keela is somewhat surprised as he talks with passion about the whole affair, for some part of her thought he might deem this too extravagant, but he seems to thrive in the flashing lights.

She discovers she agrees with his opinion of the Game. It is foolish, dangerous and bizarre, but it makes ones heart pump with delicious thrills and stolen breaths. Normally she cannot abide duplicity yet in this sparkling place of fake faces and lies, she feels as if she can be another person too. She asks him for a dance and moves on to finish her clandestine tasks, but the image of his playful smile doesn't leave her mind.

Keela flits around the palace as the night grows darker. She sneaks into servant’s quarters and deadly gardens, climbs trellises and discovers hidden vaults. She stores secrets like chestnuts in her mouth and passes them to Leliana or keeps them for herself. Keela engages with as many courtiers as she can, laughing, smiling, touching shoulders in merest grazes and playing coy beneath her lashes.

Some still whisper harsh words behind soft hands as she wanders by, but Keela remembers these cowards built their lavish palace on the broken bones of her people and lets the bitterness of it cover her in armor. Josephine starts to look at her differently, as if she is a prize possession to hang on the wall and display for all to see.

The game of sharp words turns into deadly knives as the night comes to a blood stained crescendo, but her companions are safe, the Inquisition has gained two powerful friends, and the alliance against Corypheus grows all the stronger despite his attempted interference. Keela escapes from the crowds tired but content with what she has accomplished. She savors the moment of respite for she knows the night is not completely over. Leather encased fingers wrap around the balcony’s banister and squeeze tight to ground her into finishing these final tasks.

Lady Morrigan swishes to her side and announces her entrance into the Inquisition's folds like Keela has no choice in the matter. She isn't sure what to make of this human mage whose power seems as wild as her own, perhaps even more so. Magic calls to magic, but there is something in her piercing eyes that makes Keela's hackles rise. Morrigan is gone as quickly as she came and among all the noise, Keela can hear his footsteps approach. He is much louder in their matching boots, but he has never been able to sneak up on her even barefoot. She doesn't turn around to greet him, but waits until his figure appears at the corner of her eyes.

His smile still lingers as they discuss the night's events. Solas encourages her to remain strong, but it's his hand on her arm that gives her greater strength. Music filters through the open archway and fills his eyes with a fullness she has never seen before.

"Come, before the band stops playing. Dance with me!"

Keela can only stare at him for a moment, with back bowed and hand extended, appearance so youthful she can't believe it's the same dour elf she loves.

"I'd love to," she says, surprised at how much she means it. They press close together, feet moving in the first steps of a casual waltz before Solas takes her by the waist and twirls her off the ground. Keela laughs like a delighted child. As he brings her back to the earth, their next steps are faster, lighter, and she feels close to bursting with the sudden joy in her heart.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been possessed by some sort of demon. Actually, I'm not entirely convinced you haven't."

"I do not think demons of the Fade have any inclinations towards dancing," he replies.

"Perhaps a spirit then? A spirit of...merriment?"

It is his turn to laugh. He brings them to a stop and rests his hand in the crook of her neck. "The only thing that has overcome me to tonight is just how beautiful you truly are."

He gives her no opportunity to reply as he brings them closer with a kiss. It is soft, playful, and makes Keela's stomach flutter. She feels like a youth receiving their first kiss and can't help but giggle into his lips. The noise makes her pull away, shocked at herself. Neither seem to be acting like their normal selves.

"Is this madness of yours passed on with a kiss then? I've never heard of such a spell."

"Enough of your chattering, vhenan. I would have your mouth for other pursuits."

"Sol-" He consumes her exclamation with another embrace. Fingers tangle into her hair and clutch at the small of her back. She sighs into him, wrapping herself just as closely around his slim waist. Where their first kiss was sweet as honey, this is a spice that begins to heat her from the center outwards. She’s very close to pushing him into the shadows and making further scandal when a quiet voice breaks their solitude.

“Inquisi-oh! Oh, forgive me.” The two elves move away from each other as Josephine stares at the ground with blush tinting her cheeks.

Keela laughs, still too buoyant to care. “Is there something you need?”

“The Emperor and Lady Briala would like a few more words with us now that the guests are leaving for the night.”

“Of course they do.” Keela takes a few steps forward before turning to Solas. In their tongue, she asks with a voice like silk, “Will you come to me tonight?”

She doesn’t know what possesses her to ask. Perhaps the music, the way his fingers still dance on her skin or how her lips tingle with his touch. The pause is in his reply begins to weigh heavy in her heart, but in the end he gives her a small nod.

Keela practically soars into the palace and, because her heart is now doing flips in her chest, she leans over and gives the ambassador a swift kiss upon the cheek.

“Oh my-”

“Let us be off then, my dear Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine shares an astounded look with Solas before following on the Inquisitor's heels.


	2. Chapter 2

Keela paces the entire length of her elegant suite, which takes a considerable amount of time. The Orlesian court went to great lengths to make the Inquisitor feel welcome, but the rooms are starting to feel closed in as the night grows old. She’s had time to bathe, check her closets more than half a dozen times, brush her hair until it shines, and Solas has still not come.

She wants to believe the magic of the night was more than an illusion, but as the seconds tick by with no sign of the apostate, Keela’s elated heart starts to feel heavy. Her silk night shirt begins to itch on her skin and scrape against her thighs. It was foolish of her to think he’d actually call upon her. He’ll wake from whatever stupor buzzes around his brain and settle back into the cool regard he usually keeps for her.

“Infuriating elf,” she mutters and plummets into the many pillows like clouds upon her bed. She is more upset with herself. She knows his game. Just because she made a decisive move weeks ago does not mean she won complete victory. Keela buries deeper into the pillows, ready to submit, when a quiet knock brushes against the door. 

She is there in a heartbeat, flinging the great door open as if it weighs little. If Solas is surprised by her sudden appearance he does not show it. That same consuming, hungry look from the carriage is showing on his face again. Keela doesn’t care to find out its meaning as she launches herself at him before he disappears from sight. Legs wrap around his torso and make him stumble over the threshold, but he is quick to right them both and slam the door in his wake.

He carries her to the bed and drops them both into the pit of pillows. Solas bats them to the floor and Keela kicks them away, laughing at the flurry of impatience on his face. Then his mouth is on hers, hands sparking with electricity beneath her shift, and her laughter turns to desperate gasps. Nails scrap against bare skin, breath hot and wet as tongues move in a dance more exciting than any game. As he slips inside her, Keela forgets the steps. She forgets a great many things until their music ends.

Years, minutes, seconds later, she can’t be sure and doesn’t care, Keela traces idle patterns into his smooth chest as she drapes against his side. Every breath he takes lulls her into comfort and the way his hand untangles her locks pulls her closer and closer to sleep. But she doesn’t want this night to end and wake up to find herself alone once more.

“May I ask you a question about tonight’s events?” Solas asks and Keela mumbles something she hopes sounds like a yes. “I have learned to trust your judgment, even if I do not agree. I am merely curious as to why you chose the path that you did.”

“What? You mean letting the Empress of Orlais be murdered right before our eyes?”

“And lifting up Briala to a position of power.”

“Briala is a formidable woman. I would have made her empress if it were possible, but could you imagine an elf on the Orlesian throne? One of us being the Inquisitor has caused enough fainting spells. With a leash around Gaspard's neck, she is now powerful enough to enact change. At least I believe so. I hope so.”

“I see. A clever strategy, although Briala may be in more danger than ever if not supported. Such devious methods rarely lead to stability and are answered in kind. She will need to be formally recognized on her own."

"A thing I plan to do in the future, if there is a future to be had."

"Did you not consider a similar arrangement with Celene and Briala?"

"Leilana told me of their relationship, but I also know Celene burned the entire alienage to save face. She was no friend to the elves and used them and Briala as tools as far as I can see. Perhaps, in time, she would have..."

Keela lets out a sigh, suddenly unsure of her decisions now that the blood has cooled in her veins. She is not known for her everlasting indulgence for fools and especially does not suffer villains hurting her companions. She would have cast Dorian’s father from this world if he had asked, and Keela had not even been that close to the Tevinter mage before that trip to Redcliffe to meet his family. She still considers it. She let Solas incinerate the mages that destroyed his friend. She had not cared an ounce for their lives then and cannot find herself ashamed of it now either. Could they have been forgiven, if allowed to atone? Has she doomed Briala, Orlais and the world for her own personal hatred? 

She realizes she has been silent for some time and glances up at Solas. He is watching her with patient curiosity. Would she seek vengeance against him? It seems unlikely, for she can hardly picture him doing something against her without a worthwhile reason behind his actions, but she knows he is keeping his own secrets. Something dark has clouded the blue of his eyes although she cannot imagine it could measure up against whatever the Empress has done. She hopes he will tell her, for this distrust between them is something that she loathes more than whatever truth he could tell. 

Solas brushes a touch against her cheek and traces the branches of her vallaslin. “Some things cannot be forgiven.”

She reaches up and puts a hand over his heart, trying to pass everything she feels about him into the simple touch. “I’d fight for us until my very last breath and maybe beyond that.”

It is the wrong thing to say. There is a smile on his lips, but it does not reach his eyes like others of the night. They are too busy devouring every line of her face as if he’s memorizing a spell for later use. As if he might not see her ever again. She’s pushed him to that invisible line that makes him retreat. “I know, and it is one of my greatest fears.”

And she knows what he’ll say next.

“I should go, vhenan,” Solas says. But before he can think of moving, Keela throws him back into the bed, not willing to let him disappear just yet. Her arm and leg wrap around him again, an easily enough trap to escape, but Solas does not fight her for once.

“You really shouldn’t.”

“It is late.”

“It’s early,” she corrects.

A hand comes up to her massage her thigh and she groans as her muscles tremble. All at once she feels her exhaustion settle into her bones. The forgotten night full of leaping, tumbling, escaping death in a glittering world, rushes back into her memory. But she would do it all over again if this was the certain outcome.

“Keela-”

“I don’t want it to end,” she admits, clutching at his shoulder.

“I’m not entirely suggesting that it does.” She is intrigued enough by his reply to release her hold on him and prop herself up to view his expression.

“What are you suggesting then?”

“This place holds many memories. I would walk with you in the Fade and show you a time when the elvhen were more than cowering shapes and pieces scattered to the wind. There were revelries that make the Orlesian Game seem a mere trifle of seduction and sophistication. Would that inter-”

“Yes!” Keela cries as excitement lights up inside. “Your plan has a fatal flaw, however, for now I think I’m too giddy to sleep.”

Solas leaves a kiss on her forehead before abandoning the bed to redress. Keela wants to tell him to stay for it seems unlikely that half the palace, no, half of Orlais, doesn’t know of their relationship by now, but she can recognize his need to retreat to solitude in the crinkle of his eyes, the urgency of his fingers lacing clothing closed.

“Lay your head down and be at ease, for all that happened tonight I do not think you will linger long on the threshold of sleep. I will find you soon.”

“Solas, wait.”

She rushes to the edge of the bed and rises to her knees. Solas stops to look at her, body bare and legs apart, and she feels a rush of satisfaction at the way his eyes linger with appreciation and appetite alike. Keela holds out her arms to him, fingers tickling the air. He steps into her embrace and reaches down to claim the small of her back.

“I love you,” she says, soft but sure. Keela closes her eyes and kisses him before he can reply for a large part of her fears to see reluctance in his gaze. It is foolish, for all the ways he says it and writes it in her skin with soft caresses, but sometimes she fears his love is just a dream.

There is nothing fleeting about the way he returns her affections. His touch is gentle but unyielding, present in such a way that no Fade imitation could possibly compare. The care and love in his embrace makes her want to collapse in a puddle of happiness and somehow feels so much more intimate than what passed between them in the sheets.

“Sleep well, vhenan,” Solas says as they part.

“I always do when you’re there.” It is a hopeless sentiment, hopeless but true, and she is thankful he does not comment on it and only gives her a knowing smile. Keela watches him leave and doesn't fall back into the bed until the door shuts soundlessly. She can hardly believe sleep will come so easily, but as she wraps herself in the silky smooth sheets and rests her eyes, the weight of the evening settles over her and drags her down into the depths of slumber.

The Fade swirls around her, dark and bodiless, until all around her the world grows bright and colorful. As the dream materializes and hardens, Keela looks around and is rendered speechless by what she sees.

"Welcome to Halamshiral," Solas whispers into her ear.


	3. Chapter 3

He should not be doing this.

Solas closes the door to Keela’s suite and takes a moment's rest against its hard surface. He can still taste her kiss on his lips, smell her scent on his skin. He let himself be overwhelmed by the history of this place and swayed by the demanding heat always gleaming in her Fade touched gaze.

It is foolish to continue, but he will allow this one night of selfishness. She deserves to see the true splendor of Halamshiral and he finds himself eager to watch her face light up in wonderment. Solas moves across the smooth tiles towards his own rooms, slipping through shadows and unnoticed by wandering nobles. His accommodations are not as spectacular as Keela's, and he suspects even less so than the other companions, but they suit his purposes well enough. He takes a few moments to cast aside his outer shell of clothing before slipping inside the soft sheets.

The Elvhen of the past float through the hallways like shimmering clouds, but she is the brightest beacon in the midst of it all. He can't help lose himself in her light, a swirling aura of yellow and green just like the beauty of her eyes. Never did he think to find its kind in this new, shattered world.

Solas reaches his power out into the Fade, pulling strings of memory into a collective weave of thought. The fog around him thickens to form a grand palace so unlike the current one in which they slumber. It is made of stone and wood, great trees bending to form a continuous arch down a lengthy ballroom. Petals of rose and gold grace elegant limbs as luminescent spheres of magic hover above and bathe the hall in ethereal light.

Statues to the gods sit at the base of trees, fearsome dragons, valiant hawks, and noble owls. Even a cunning wolf. Elves of the Dales, resplendent in radiant regalia, twirl across a vast dance floor or sample from tables overrun with succulent food and flowing wine. Laughter and song float above and mix to create a melody that pleases the ears and the soul.

All of it pales in comparison to her.

Keela stands facing away as she takes in the marvels of the past. From the Fade, Solas drapes her in royal finery befitting this time. A green dress the color of the Emerald Graves hugs every curve except for the expanse of her back. Golden chains loop across the naked skin down to the small of her back and glimmer with every breath she takes. She is exquisite with her hair pulled into a low, twisting bun to the side and streams of crystal jewelry weave between the raven strands.

“Welcome to Halamshiral,” he says into her ear. Her wide eyes turn to him and a little gasp escapes from painted lips. He wears a matching overcoat with a high collar, similar to the current robes of a Keeper, and gold and black attire beneath. Once upon a time, he was careful and considerate about his appearance for it was vital towards his station. It matters little now in the face of all his worries, but he can't help feel a bloom of warmth as she takes him in, her gaze heavy with hunger.

"Solas, you look..." Her face lights up with a smile, a rare type he has come to cherish for he knows it blooms more so for him. "If they ever existed, I don't think even the elven gods could look as powerful as you do now."

Solas shakes his head, never lost to the irony of her innocent statements, and wraps long fingers around her shoulders. "If there are to be any claims towards divinity, they are to be reverent prayers in your honor."

Gently he turns her to face a mirror. "Oh," she breathes out, awed by her image. "It's beautiful. How did you...?"

"It is no small feat to shape the Fade towards your desires, but every somniari is capable of it with enough training." His hand trails down her arm and feels her shiver beneath the touch. Grabbing onto her hand, he turns the palm up in the cradle of his grasp. He calls to the anchor,  _his_  power, although no longer just his, and the mark pulses in time with the music floating through the air. Green light dances like fire above her skin and he can see the flecks of the Fade sparkling within her eyes in the reflection.

"The dreams of the People burn bright here, barely weathered by time and the sorrow of more recent years. Their souls still sing with valiant victories and hopes for a future more glorious than Arlathan. Few are the places where you can hear the heartbeat of the Elvhen with such certainty. Can you feel it pounding within your breast?"

"Yes," she whispers, captivated by the way the mark swirls. Solas moves his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together, and the anchor sends ribbons of familiar power flashing up his arm.

"Come."

He takes her to the middle of the dance floor amongst spirits and wisps of memory. At first, Keela hesitates at the unknown steps, but her clever eyes memorize his lead. Their movements are full of long, sweeping strides and quick bursts of limbs tangling like lines of ivy. When they circle the ballroom again, her feet find the rhythm and she laughs, amazement crinkling her eyes.

"Is there nothing you can't do?" she asks as he twirls her away.

"Like with so many things, it is made easier with the right partner," he replies as he pulls her back. Keela clings to him, slowing their steps even as the music swells. He is drawn into her kiss, as inescapable as gravity. Her lips leave fluttering touches against his, soft and sweet, made sweeter by the taste of her warm smile.

“And things are always easier in the Fade,” she says, teasing. Keela steps out of his embrace but leaves their fingers intertwined as she guides him from the dance floor. Solas follows as she scours every inch of the formidable hall with eyes starving for its ancient insights. Constant are her questions, her caresses against every surface available. He answers with equal enthusiasm, forever astounded by her never ending curiosity.

Eventually her fingers follow the gentle sloping back of the Dread Wolf’s statue and come to rest beneath its muzzle, as if she would scratch the god’s chin like it is a playful hound.

“Is this accurate? They put statues of Fen’Harel in equal footing with the other gods?”

“It would appear so,” he says, but wonders about it himself. He has witnessed what the Elvhen did to his temples and symbols after the fall of Arlathan. They bore him no love, the god that brought deliverance only to abandon them to a broken world soon after. Yet the elves of Halamshiral revered the wolf, charged into battle with loyal lupine companions, and placed statues in their honor throughout the forests and plains.

Keela hums in thought at his side and gives the statue a gentle pat before her gaze finds something else to latch onto. She drags him towards a gilded window, one of many lining the walls, and tries to see into the world beyond. There is nothing but darkness, swirling mists of green and gray, and Solas tries not to laugh at the disappointment pulling her lips down.

“I am sorry, but there are limits to how much one can manipulate the Fade no matter their talents or knowledge. Do you wish to see more of the city?”

“You know I do, if you are willing to show me.”

“I once told you that I would not trade walking through centuries old dreams and memories for anything this world could offer, but to see your happiness at such sights is a much greater vision than all I have witnessed before.”

Keela grasps onto the stiff collar of his robe and tugs him nearer. “Sweet talker, indeed.”

A figure appears in the corner of his eye before the moment can shift into something more. They both turn to find an elf from the court, but Solas knows its true nature. It is a spirit reveling in the memories and magic of this place, no doubt captivated especially by Keela's blazing presence. It bows with flourish, hand held out to his lover. She looks at him, raising an eyebrow in silent questioning.

"It is safe, if you wish it."

“How could I resist?”

Keela accepts the offered hand and is swept away. Solas watches her swirl beneath the glory of old Halamshiral. Like with everything, she has mastered the steps in so little time with her keen mind and he feels a selfish burst of pride in her. Spirits pause to follow her movements or swarm around her like jubilant moths basking in the purest light. The Fade trembles and sighs with pleasure in such a way he has never experienced.

Solas wishes to give her this in the flesh, a place where she is a bonfire not for spirits and shadows, but for the People, where they are made whole and vibrant under her guidance. If there is a time she truly belongs to it is here, when they were free and wild, yet possessed purpose and grace lost when their new homeland fell.

He tells her so as she stumbles back into his arms, drunk on laughter and spilling over with joy. Keela shakes her head, her fingers splaying out across his jawline. "No. I belong right where I am, with you."

“Vhenan…”  _I am not what you believe me to be_ , he wants to say. The words are on his tongue, thick with his desire to unburden himself of this weight. He knows she will accept his truths and that always gives him pause for he does not deserve her understanding. He does not deserve it but he  _wants_  it. Not even amongst his own kin has he ever felt more himself. He exists across the worlds, but in her embrace is where he wishes to belong.

“I-”  _I am the Dread Wolf, the terror that stalks the dreams of your people. I am the reason they wither in the shadows of shemlen and I would see this nightmare end. I set out to restore the Elvhen no matter the cost, but I would put my cause aside for you. You have captured a god and I would gladly shed my skin to be a mortal by your side._

Keela tilts her head, eyes narrowing at his loss for words. “Solas?”

He answers her the only way he can, pressing a kiss against her lips to seal the truth away. It is desperate with all the things left unsaid, all the ways he loves her, and all the pleas for forgiveness he will mostly likely never get to make. Keela sinks closer, the heat of her skin banishing away his darker thoughts with every caress. Her fingers gripping tight to the fabric at his back ground him to the present and chase away the lingering ghosts of the past. The way she sighs against his mouth breathes life into his weary, old soul.

“Solas,” she says again, this time in whispered affection.

_No. I am Fen’Harel and there is no place for us, but I cannot leave you just yet._

**Author's Note:**

> [Keela's Outfit](http://jessicapendragon.tumblr.com/post/122288453534/i-dont-think-you-understand-the-amount-of)


End file.
